My girlfriend’s girlfriend is a cunt. I’m not allowed to say that, of course, but here we are. She’s archetypically composed and wields bias like small arms fire. The whiff of anything remotely heteronormative makes her rabid, even the shape of my masculinity, vague as it is, enables her to hate me for being something I never had say in. Sometimes we stay up drinking wine and yelling at each other while we wait for Katie to finish work. ‘You’ll never understand us,’ she says, but I do, I love them for it, it’s her ignorance I’ll never get.